


Words Unsaid

by rayrae118



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Chris as a father figure, Crew as Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feels, Gen, I really like beating Jim up emotionally, Missing Scene, Star Trek: Into Darkness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 18:13:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8067655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayrae118/pseuds/rayrae118
Summary: It was a tradition hundreds of years in the practice, to give the family of the fallen soldier a folded up flag; proof, tangible, physical proof that their loved one's death was not in vain. Jim hadn't told Chris how much he meant to him. Now, he never could.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The inspiration for this story came from the speech Jim gave at the end of Into Darkness.
> 
> "There will always be those who mean to do us harm. To stop them, we risk awakening the same evil within ourselves. Our first instinct is to seek revenge when those we love are taken from us. But that's not who we are… When Christopher Pike first gave me his ship, he had me recite the Captain's Oath. Words I didn't appreciate at the time. But now I seem them as a call for us to remember who we once were and who we must be again."  
>  \- James Kirk

The first blast from the phaser sent a shiver down Jim's spine. As the shots kept going, he felt like each shot was fired straight into his heart.

Ever since he had awoken in that biobed to Bones' sunny disposition, it had been a long month of funerals and condolences; Starfleet had lost well over a hundred men and women, and it was only now, at the end, that they were holding services for the eight Admirals, Captains, and First Officers who had been killed in the attack by Khan on Headquarters. Jim was glad that this was the last one, because he didn't think he could take any more.

Add that to the fact that it was Chris Pike's service, and it promised to be a long and trying day.

The Honor Guard was now folding up the flag, and Jim couldn't draw his eyes away from that innocent piece of cloth. It was a tradition hundreds of years in the practice, to give the family of the fallen soldier a folded up flag; proof, tangible, physical proof that their loved one's death was not in vain.

He had one for George Kirk's service, still stashed in a box somewhere among the bits and pieces of a life he had tried so hard to run from. He had found the flag hidden with other awards and commendations from both his parents in the attic of the old house in Riverside. He had gone back to pack up everything he didn't want to lose, his first summer after starting at the Academy – it hadn't really been much, just some clothes and a couple of keepsakes. He had just needed to get rid of any tangible thread linking him to Iowa, and all the bad memories. Winona… Frank… Sam… George…

He wasn't sure why he had decided to take the flag, but for some reason, he had. It wasn't like George Kirk was anything more than a name on a birth certificate to him. But that flag was his proof. His physical evidence that his father had mattered. And Jim would never admit it to anyone, but he needed that verification.

The flag was almost folded now, and Jim forced himself to draw his mind back to the present. To his left, Spock sat, stiff and formal, but Jim could almost feel the undercurrent of sadness radiating from the Vulcan.

Focusing on the Honor Guard, he realized with a start that they were all people he recognized. Of course, he thought ruefully; Pike was a good man and a distinguished Admiral. His Honor Guard would be those who had worked and served with him. Admiral's Barnett and Archer were the two at the end, the last two to be holding the flag.

The two older men shared a significant glance, before Barnett took the flag and turned around, walking over to Jim.

The captain looked up in surprise, unable to hide his confusion.

Barnett almost smiled. "We all agreed, Captain. Chris had no family left, but ever since your first day in Starfleet, he thought of you as a son. He would want you to have this."

Not able to say anything without breaking down, Jim simply nodded his thanks, and took the folded flag, setting it in his lap as he clenched the material tightly.

The phasers were done firing, and in the piercing silence, a lone bugle picked up the sad, sweet tune that had been played in these ceremonies for hundreds of years.

The melody of 'Taps' only gave shape to the sadness and grief that lined every fiber of Jim's being. He could barely sit still under the gazes of several concerned members of his crew – Bones wouldn't stop staring at him, and he caught Spock and Uhura looking away quickly several times as soon as he turned to face them.

As soon as the ceremony ended, he was up and out of his seat, ignoring anyone who might try to stop him, his hands still clenched around the folded flag.

He somehow ended up at his apartment on campus, but he couldn't remember the journey there at all. The flag was set on the coffee table, and he wasted no time in digging into the boxes he still hadn't found the time – or the will – to unpack.

It only took a few minutes for him to find his father's flag, encased in a display, meant to be shown to the world for the symbol of pride and honor that it was. He had kept it in a box for almost four years.

He set the older flag down next to the one from Chris' service, and sat down on the floor, just studying them, looking for something.

It was Bones who found him first. He hadn't locked the door, so the doctor figured that to be a good sign, and simply entered immediately after knocking.

His friend was too quiet. Bones took in the silent and rigid profile of the _Enterprise's_ Captain, and then looked at what his best friend was so closely studying. Two flags, sitting side by side, on the coffee table. One was obviously from this afternoon, the other… well, Bones had an idea of where his wayward best friend had gotten that one.

Without a word, he sat down on the floor next to Jim, and waited.

After a few minutes of silence, Jim spoke. He didn't look at the doctor, and his voice was lost, and almost confused. "They gave me his flag."

"They did," McCoy acknowledged.

Jim sighed, looking down at the floor briefly, before his gaze returned to the flags. "You know, when I was growing up, I hated my dad." McCoy nodded, but didn't say anything. After so many years being the wayward Captain's best friend, he had long since learned that Jim's past was riddled with secrets, pain, and sadness. Even if he didn't know everything, he knew enough to want to take a trip to Iowa and personally ensure those who had hurt him never had a chance to do so again.

Jim shrugged, looking down again, as he continued. "I blamed him, for everything. You know, if he hadn't gone out in a blaze of glory, maybe things would have been different. If he hadn't been so selfish, thinking nothing of his family, Sam might not have left, mom wouldn't have brought Frank into our lives… hell, if he hadn't died, mom probably would have actually been able to look me in the eyes." McCoy reached over and grasped his friend's shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. Jim glanced over, smiling slightly, thankfully. "When I went back, after my first year at the Academy, I found this box in the attic, filled with awards and commendations that my dad received. This flag was hidden in there. I don't even know why I took it, but I just felt like… George Kirk was a good man. Even if I was resentful, he had still done a great thing, and he didn't deserve to be forgotten." Jim snorted a little. "All those medals, stuck in a box in an attic in Iowa… turns out my mom hated him too."

"I'm sure that's not…" McCoy trailed off as Jim shook his head.

"I know she did, Bones." Jim sounded weary, dead tired, and McCoy knew that he had been dealing with this for twenty-six years, so it would make sense for him to feel this way. "If she hadn't, she wouldn't have been such a terrible mother." He had said it. Out loud, for the first time, he had admitted that his mother hadn't been one. "She was desperate to escape the loneliness, so she spent all her time in space. If she hadn't resented my dad, she wouldn't have just thrown away his children. She would have _cared_ more."

Jim was almost crying now, and McCoy moved his arm so that he was encircling his best friend in a hug, rubbing his back reassuringly. Behind the doctor, the door opened once more, revealing the rest of Jim's Command Crew, standing somewhat awkwardly in the doorway; Sulu's arm was still poised to knock, and McCoy realized with a rueful thought that he hadn't actually closed the door all the way, which would explain why it had opened on the slightest touch from the pilot.

Jim sniffed, pulling back from the doctor; he looked up and let out a small sigh at the sight of his crew, all watching him defiantly, just waiting to tell him to stuff it when he asked them to leave. He jerked his head once, an invitation, and they all filed in, Spock making certain to close the door firmly behind him.

Jim smiled a little, happy to be surrounded by the only family he had. His gaze found Spock's, and an understanding passed between the pair. He turned back to the two flags sitting on the table. "Chris saved me, you know." He paused, but no one said anything. Jim snorted lightly. "In that bar, I was going nowhere and fast. I was just tired of life, and living. If it hadn't been for Chris, I probably would have ended up killing myself in some way, on purpose or accidentally, before I got to my twenty-fifth birthday."

There was a slightly shocked silence that followed that pronouncement. Even if all of them knew that their captain had something of a death wish, if the stunts he pulled on a regular basis were anything to go by, to hear him say it, so casually, was startling.

It seemed that Chris had saved even more than just Jim. By getting Jim to enlist, he had, inadvertently, saved Starfleet. He had saved all of them. Each and every officer in that room could acknowledge the fact that their lives were better for having Jim Kirk in it.

"He cared about you," McCoy stated softly.

Jim nodded. "I know," he replied, and then chuckled a little, his eyes lighting up. "You should have seen how pissed he was after we broke into the environmental science lab and turned it into a Hawaiian tropic scene."

"That was you?" Sulu asked, leaning forward as he grinned. That prank had been legendary, talked about for years. He still heard people talking about it at the Academy.

Jim's smile widened, as he and McCoy shared a knowing look. That had been one of their first acts together, barely a month after starting at the Academy; Jim had dragged him along on that harebrained scheme, insisting that he needed to lighten up. He had spent the next week expecting to be expelled, no matter how much Jim had insisted that there was no physical evidence. Jim looked back at the rest of his command crew. "I can neither confirm nor deny," he grinned impishly.

Spock clasped his hands behind his back. "If I recall correctly, Captain, nobody was punished for that particular indiscretion. I admit to some surprise, considering all the ways the perpetrator could have been caught."

Jim shook his head, his smile not dimming. "Come on, Spock, I've been hacking into security systems since I was a kid. It really wasn't as hard as it should have been to circumvent the security cameras and motion sensors."

No one was really sure what to say to that, and after a moment, Jim's smile dropped a little, as he turned back to the flags. "No one could prove it, but Chris knew it was me. He didn't take any action, or tell anyone, because no one was hurt, and I think he was amused. So was most of the faculty, actually. I heard they threw a party in there before trying to get rid of it." Everyone laughed, before Jim shrugged, his eyes growing wistful once more. "He dragged me into his office and started reaming me out for something he really had no proof that I did – something I definitely called him on." Jim shook his head. "He told me to look him in the eye and tell him I had nothing to do with it. I couldn't, so he started in on this lecture about proving myself, and making something of myself… after about five minutes in which I'm fairly certain he didn't take a breath once, I finally interrupted and asked him why he cared."

He trailed off, the memories coming back to play in the forefront of his mind.

"What did he say?" Uhura asked quietly, trying to come to terms with this side of her captain.

Jim let out a breath of air that was half snort, half laugh, as he turned his gaze to the communication's officer. "He told me to get over myself and figure out that I wasn't as alone as I thought I was, before I ruined everything. And then he told me to stop throwing away my life just because I hadn't had it easy growing up."

McCoy snorted, shaking his head. "I knew I always liked that guy," he commented, lightly tapping Jim's shoulder with his own.

Jim nodded, laughing a little, himself. "He never gave up," he said, sobering a little. "For three years, I did my absolute best to find out what his limits were. I was so sure that, at a certain point, he would just stop caring, stop trying to get me to be better. But he never did."

One by one, in the deafening silence that followed, each crewmember moved over to sit by their captain. Spock claimed the other side of Jim, while Uhura sat next to him, and Scotty, Sulu, and Chekov sat behind them. The group stayed silent for a while longer, simply enjoying each other's company, and supporting their leader in his grief. All of them would move Heaven and Earth to help Jim, and if all they could do now was just be there, a shoulder for him to lean on, they would do it.

The rest of the afternoon disappeared to reminiscing and stories about their various encounters with the distinguished Admiral, and by the time dinner rolled around, Jim felt much better. He joined his friends – no, his family – for the meal, and they spent several more hours just talking, speculating on what the future would hold, what they would do next, where they would go.

By the time Jim went to sleep that night, he could actually feel his heart beat easier. His shoulders felt lighter, his head clearer.

**XXX**

Spock knocked on the Captain's door, and waited for the muffled "enter," before he walked in.

Jim was just zipping up his duffle bag, and looked up, smiling at his First Officer. "Spock, what can I do for you?"

Spock set his stance so that his feet were spaced at shoulder width, his hands behind his back. "I wished to give you something, Captain, before we depart." He then unveiled what he had been holding behind his back. It was a triangular case, similar to the one that housed his father's flag – the case that was still sitting on the coffee table, even after so many days. Jim wasn't sure what to do with it, so he had left both flags where he had set them a week previously.

Jim felt his heart jump into his throat, as he took the case from the Vulcan. In looks, it was almost identical to the older one, but when the captain studied it further, he noted a small plaque on the bottom of the front of the case. It was simply inscribed ' _Christopher Pike – loving father'_. Jim looked up, eyes glistening. "Thank you," he said simply, but even Spock could feel the raw emotion.

He nodded austerely. "Doctor McCoy suggested the inscription," he admitted. "And I concur; as Admiral Barnett said at the ceremony, Admiral Pike considered you to be his family. I felt it only right that you have a way of displaying the flags from both of your fathers."

Jim blinked, surprised to hear such a statement from the normally emotionless Vulcan. Without saying anything, he set the case down and opened it, placing Chris' flag inside, before sealing it up once more. Looking at the two flags sitting side by side, he felt that Spock was in the right in that moment. "Two fathers," he murmured. Making a swift decision, he kneeled down to open up his duffle bag, and placed both cases inside. He didn't have enough personal belongings to fill the bag, so there was room for both flags.

His fingers ghosted over the new case, running across that small plaque, and he smiled. The flag was proof. Hard evidence that Christopher Pike had mattered. That he had made a difference. And while Jim didn't need physical corroboration to remember how much Chris had meant to him, it was nice to see it. To have something to look at, to touch, to feel. Something to link him to a great man, and it was all in that small inscription.

 _Christopher Pike – loving father_.

Jim zipped up his bag once more and looked up, smiling through the tears. Spock was watching him with something like concern. He picked up his bag and swung it over his shoulder.

"Come on, Spock," he said lightly, as the Vulcan also turned towards the door, and they began to make their way to the shuttle bay. "Let's get back to our ship. It's time to find an adventure."


End file.
